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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777821">Transformation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braxdovah/pseuds/Braxdovah'>Braxdovah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>White Wolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:40:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braxdovah/pseuds/Braxdovah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The progression of artist to artwork - prequel to unexpected gift</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Transformation</h2></a>
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    <p>He blinked as they started polishing him. Frozen in place as he was, there was little else he could do. It still felt strange to be polished. The liquid was cool and spreads slowly as it gets worked in by the cloths. His skin had long ago become a living metal, flexible and still sensitive to sensation. Muscle fatigue no longer as a concern, in fact he was more concerned his joints would not allow him to leave the pose he was in without assistance. Granted this pose was at least somewhat regal. The nude partially transformed man was kneeling, his palms flat on a small orb that had been chosen to keep his posture at the desired angle. Back arched slightly, clean lines that enhanced the rose gold sheen to his skin. The Merchant walks in as the attendants finish lifting him orb and all onto a low table. “The piece is coming along nicely.” Fingers poke and prod, attempting to jar him into movement. A bag of gems and metal pieces that Thomas can barely spy spills onto the table before him. “Take notes, the metal has set nicely, prepared for augmentation. Subject has learned the required stillness and obedience.” His fingers graze the orb and Thomas feels a jolt, a slight tingle in his joints. </p><p>The Merchant’s fingers pluck sapphires from the pile. There is a sharp jab of heat when they are pressed into his skin that quickly settles into a dull ache as they are smoothed and tugged into the desired shapes. The first location is between his shoulders, and the feeling spreads across and down his body. By the time it reaches his arms and his eyes widen, the pattern has taken form. His skin is now mottled like a leopard, rose gold with deep blue splotches. He whimpers in his throat and the skitter of a quill begins notating. “Subject seems distressed by change. Monitor for stress induced reaction.” The other two attendants begin  adjusting his limbs for him, moving him into a lewd downward dog. Unused muscles were awaken and he groans with the rush of sensation. Positioned as he is he can now more clearly see the items before him. Opals, and a jumble of metal, beyond that he is at loss. The fact that the metal is matches the now two tones he bears causes him to twist in place, producing nothing more than the slightest of trembles.</p><p>“Coloration complete.” A ring bedecked hand lifts a coiled item from the pile and places it against the base of his spine, gently moving it into position. Pain, his world explodes into pain. heat shooting up and surrounding his spinal column. The tail hangs limply for a moment, before twitching and grazing his ass as it moves. “Tail is functional, it will operate off of the autonomic nervous system.”  His screams are muffled into whimpers by the forced closing of his jaw and his body labors to process the excess adrenaline produced by pain.</p><p>“Reposition for access, face and head, no pressure on the hindquarters.” The attendants gingerly move him gently smoothing his hands and feet as they do. Glimpses of blue and ‘claws?, yes those are.’ pass his vision as they move him onto all fours. His neck is extended and his back arched sharply. They pry his jaw open and he gasps, panting. “Subject still reacts to pain and requires limited human needs.” </p><p>The Merchant lifts a small metal framework to his nose and cheeks, it bonds almost instantly and the sudden shift of feeling causes Thomas to move his face in discomfort. A touch to the new whiskers makes him mewl and try to pull away. “Increase in sensation by 125% percent. Nerve work had the unintended side effect of increasing expression. Ears may also cause such.”<br/>
He can feel the whiskers move, twitching in reaction to his fear. ‘Ears, what ears?’  Delicate sapphire cat ears are placed on his skull, nestled into his hair. The Merchant spends several moments making them sit just right. Small opal fangs are tucked into his mouth with care held in place with rubber tasting shell. “Prepared for final item and then last stage of bonding.” Thomas watches mutely as twin finely carved opals are lifted to his eyes. The oblong opening in them narrow. Each is slid under his eyelid with care and the heat that was dull to his skin feels red hot as all three of his facial additions bond at once. </p><p>“The piece is completed. Prepare for transport.” The last thing he knew was the red hot heat, but judging from the fact, he is currently curled up as he ‘awakens’, time must have past. These gaps have become standard, his mind retreats to nothingness to retain his sanity during long periods of being still. </p><p>‘Transport? Transport where?’ The Merchant sits just out of sight but Thomas can smell the scent of money and expensive cologne. The two attendants pick him up and unfold him, a far easier process he notes. A large gift box sits in the middle of the floor and they place him in front of it. As they latch the delicate cuffs around his wrists and ankles, they massage each limb loosening him up. “Yes, you will be a good kitten.” ‘Kitten, what the hell do they mean?’ A long ribbon is wrapped thru the rings of the cuffs and around him, trapping him in a position of a cat sitting up and begging attentively. It ends in an elaborate bow at his wrists. The chiming of a bell comes from below his neck and he feels his ears and tail perk up. ‘What the hell? Where is it?’ They open his jaw inserting a ring of some sort to properly display his teeth. Once the two scurrying workers complete the finishing touches on him, they open the box and place him inside tucking layers of tissue paper around him. It is maddening and then he hears the lid slip down on the top. In the dark, all he can do is wonder how long until he is released and what the hell did they mean by ‘being a good kitten.’</p>
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